The Point to Pinnacle: The Race

  

Outside the Casino a crowd of people gathers. An invisible voice launches a series of warm-up exercises. All done with good humour. The crowd is happy, well-behaved and impatient to begin running.

I greet a few people I know from the running community.

I tell one: I would be happy to reach the pinnacle and be last one across the finish line. My aim is just to finish. Later that day I remember what I said.

Another person says: Only doing the Point to Pub.

My reply is: Don’t use the word only. The Point to Pub is an achievement you should be proud of.

The crowd inches towards the start line. I find myself at very back of the group. The race starts. The wave of runners actually running sweeps back. Eventually it reaches me and I jog carefully. I cross the start line about three minutes after the gun was fired.

 

Initially we run through the suburbs of Hobart. Traffic control people are ubiquitous. Sunday morning Hobart consists of runners, Hi-Vis jackets and unhappy motorists sitting in stationary cars.

I yell out to one of the multitudes of Hi-Vis jackets: Thank you for your work.

His reply: You are the one doing all the hard work.

Many people stand, watch and yell encouragement.  There are many young children watching.

The clouds think about showering but decide not to.

On The Mountain, I find myself running by myself surrounded by mist. The mist is spooky, beautiful and quiet.  Out of the mist emerges my favourite tree which is proudly blooming. Telopea Truncata shines brightly in the mist. I will remember that moment for ever.